


Desire

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom!Jon, F/M, Fingering, For Steila's Birthday!, Jon Choking Littlefinger, Prompt Fill, S7 trailer inspired, Smut, agressive Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Sansa happens upon Jon and Petyr down in the crypts and insists that Jon tell her what it was that Littlefinger had said to get him so worked up.PROMPT FILL from Steila - HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY!





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steila/gifts).



> This one shot is a prompt fill from Steila - hastily fulfilled to try and get it posted for her birthday today! 
> 
> Also - when I say hastily - I mean HASTILY!! Please forgive all my typos!

"Jon"! Sansa yelped, bolting forward as the image in front of her came into a clearer view. Lord Baelish pinned to the wall with one of Jon's hands around his neck.

Jon glared at her as she hastily approached before turning his focus back to Littlefinger. The greying man was clawing at the hand about his throat. "Leave us Sansa" Jon growled as he jostled Petyr in his grasp, turning his face an alarming shade of crimson. She briefly acknowledged that the sight before her excited her a little. She wasn't sure why.

They were in the crypts, Sansa had come to talk to her father's bones. She had come to talk of her many fears and her little hopes, but most of all she had come to unburden her regrets. She had not expected to meet anyone down here.

"Jon" Sansa tried again, ignoring the gasping mockingbird and instead focusing on the light of the sconce reflected in Jon's grey eyes as they, in turn, bored a hole in Baelish's head. "Jon, please" she repeated, this time placing a hand on his forearm - the forearm attached to the hand that seems intent on snuffing the life out of a weasel. She squeezed him through his boiled leather sleeve gently, finally hearing confirmation that his grip had loosened when Baelish began wheezing. Sansa chanced a glance at the older man. 

 _I should let him do it. I should let him end Littlefinger's life_. She felt the corners of her lips twitch at the thought.

"You didn't hear the things he said" Jon rasped out, his menacing gaze still intent on his target.

"I'm sure you'll tell me Jon" Sansa responded, putting gentle, urgent pressure onto his arm once more. She heard Baelish cough, only it sounded more like a weak bark of a laugh. 

"Is this funny to you?! Is all this just a game?! Every person just a pawn to be moved and used"? Jon snarled at the clever Lord, some spittle flying out along with his rabid words.

"No" Baelish wheezed quietly whilst trying to shake his head.

_Liar._

"Jon, please, let him go" she whispered.

For what seemed like an age, Jon did not move. His grip did not cease, his glare did not diminish and his seething did not calm. Until, all of sudden, Baelish had been dropped to the floor and Jon was striding out of the crypts with his cloak billowing in his wake. Sansa allowed herself a quick look at the crumbled, gasping mess of a man on the floor - just long enough to satisfy herself - before she turned on her heels and hurried after her brother.

"Jon"! she said breathlessly once she'd caught up with him in the courtyard. She slowed her pace and hooked her arm through his "Jon, what did he say"? Sansa asked. He only grunted in response as he eyed the stable-hands and the farrier with caution, as if they knew he had just been dangerously close to ending a Lord's life. Sansa sighed and tugged on his arm towards a disused stable block.

The stone building housed three empty stalls with wooden divides. It had been used for storing old tack and the odd stack of hay bales rather than horses for as long as Sansa could remember. She recalled trying to tempt Ayra to play picnic tea parties with her and her dolls here once, only for her sister to quickly lose interest and wander off in search of Robb or Jon. The air was heady with the earthy scent of horse, straw and old leather. Sansa closed the door behind them, making the light inside rather dull save for a few beams that shone through the cracks in the ancient wooden door, illuminating dust particles as they danced by.

Sansa looked to Jon. He had his back to her, she could feel that his body still held the tension that was fuelling him down in the crypts just moments earlier.

"Jon"?

He gave no response save for a long exhale through his nose. Even though he was not facing her, Sansa could see in her mind's eye the expression on his face - eyes closed and jaw twitching.

"Jon please, what did he say"?

"You don't want to know" he huffed, removing his gloves.

Sansa inched forward and placed a hand on the furs at his shoulder.

"Sansa" he said in a warning tone. She paused to consider her next words.

"We trust each other don't we?.....Trust me Jon".

Jon turned to face her, the fury in his features had soften slightly, but he had not lost it completely. 

"I cannot tell you".

"You do not trust me".

"No, that is not it, I-" he clamped his mouth shut, Sansa watched the muscle in his jaw tick a few times before he repeated his words again "I cannot tell you" he said, staring at the straw littered floor. 

_What are you hiding Jon?_

"But-"

"I cannot Sansa"! Jon yelled "please, just leave it be".

Sansa clenched and unclenched her hands into fists at her sides. "So this is how it is to be?.....I am to trust you, but you are not willing to be open with me?! How are we to be united Jon?! How are we to overcome our enemies when we bick-" Sansa's words were cut short with a gasp as Jon pushed her to the wall, her back against the rough, uneven stone as Jon pressed the heat if his body into hers, his hands against the stone on either side of Sansa's head. His face was close, so close, his eyes boring into hers as he panted, not from exertion, but from a rush of something that Sansa could not name. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her own.

"Baelish" Jon spat "said that I desire you". He paused momentarily, his eyes scanning hers rapidly before he licked his lips to continue. "He said that I desire you as a man desires a whore, says he's seen the look many a time before".

Sansa stayed silent. She's quite sure that if her brain could conjure any words than her mouth would simply refuse to speak them.

"I told him that he's spent far too much of his time in the company of Lannisters" Jon growled, one of his hands came down to cup her jaw, he turned her face to the side and pressed his nose to her temple. "I told him he was wrong" he hissed into her skin as his hand slid down and curled around her slender neck. Sansa closed her eyes and scraped her bottom lip with her teeth, releasing it a little wetter and a little more plump.

Jon ducked his head so that instead of his nose at Sansa's temple, it was his forehead. She felt him loosen his hold about her neck as he mapped a path downwards with a feather light drag of his fingertips. Down, down, down his touch travelled, slowly - tortuously so. He traced her collarbones before travelling further south, he tickled the plane of her chest before following the curve of her rising and falling cleavage. Finally he cupped her breast and squeezed, eliciting a whimper from Sansa's lips.

"I told him he was wrong" Jon repeated, swiping his thumb across Sansa's breast and pushing his hips into hers a little more forcefully. Sansa let an aroused groan escape her throat. "You like that don't you? You like me touching you"? He murmured into her neck, almost making her feel like he was directing his words to himself and not to her. She turned her head to face him once more.

She should have asked him to stop, she should have pushed him away, she should have told him to forget what Baelish had said - the cunning man was only trying to unnerve Jon anyway. but she didn't. She stared at his eyes - eyes that held such intensity. So much so, that she had to look away. So her gaze fell on his lips - which was not much better as she watched his tongue roll out and back in again to wet them obscenely. No - Sansa Stark did not do any of the things that she _should_ have done. She kissed him. She kissed Jon.

His hand sunk into her hair as the other kneaded her breast through the thick weave of her dress. Jon groaned into her mouth and pushed his strong thigh between her legs.

"I do not desire you" he panted when he broke their kiss momentarily only to possess her lips forcefully once more. "I do not desire my sister" he muttered between another kiss, his hand now gripping her hair almost painfully.

"Jon" Sansa whimpered as his lips left a scorching trail down her jaw.

"Tell me to stop" he whispered in her ear before biting her lobe "tell me to stop and I'll stop Sansa".

She made a needy whining sound and started rocking her hips, rubbing herself against his thigh.

Suddenly, Jon yanked her forwards and spun her round to face the wall. His hands became frantic as they pulled at the skirts before her, bunching them up so that he could slip a hand over her smallclothes. Sansa gasped as his fingers smoothed over the fabric that covered her cunny, up and down, up and down. "You're wet Sansa, I can feel it through your underthings" he rasped in her ear.

"Yes" she breathed

"These are in the way" Jon growled, pinching the fabric of her smallclothes between his forefinger and thumb.

"Yes" Sansa repeated before she felt him grab her underthings with both hands and heard a ripping sound that made her pulse hammer even faster than it had been doing. "Jon" she moaned once there was no barrier between his deft fingers and her sensitive pearl.

One hand came up to her neck as the other kept busy between her legs, causing her breathing to become ragged.

"Jon please" she cried.

"I've got you sweet girl" Jon murmured as his fingers pumped in and out of her, the heel of his palm rubbing against the sensitive knot of nerves. "Do you know how long I've dreamt of you Sansa? Of touching you? Tasting you? Fucking you? Your tits, your cunt, your eyes, your smile - all of you, you've driven me mad"! He nipped at her ear and along her shoulder.

"Oh Jon"!

"That's it....cum Sansa...cum for me" he growled in command.

It was his words. His words so hot and filthy and right there - right there behind her ear, his breath tickling her skin. All of it. It all caused the thing that was building to suddenly burst within her with a rush. Sansa cried out his name as her body pulsed with pleasure, her heartbeat thick and loud in her ears whilst she panted.

"Sansa" Jon whispered when her breathing had begun to even out "I don't desire you as a man does a whore....I....I desire you as.....as a man does his wife".

"Bravo, bravo" came an unexpected voice. Jon and Sansa spun around to see none other than Lord Baelish perched upon a hay bale as he clapped slowly and chuckled out an unsavoury noise.

"You know, I wasn't completely convinced of my own accusations but now...after your reaction in the crypts and now this delightful little...show, well, now I know that I was correct...and I do love to be proved correct" he smiled his weasel smile. Jon made to unsheathe Longclaw. "Ah-ah my King" Baelish said, rising from his seated position. "That would not be wise, not when you need the Knights of the Vale so very badly".

"You forget, Lord Baelish" Sansa started, straightening her spine in defiance "you have not been resident at the Vale long enough to dig your claws into enough Lords for ample backing". Baelish only raised an eyebrow in query, his smirk still firmly etched onto his face. "I had a good long talk with Lord Royce yesterday" she continued "he does not seem all that enamoured with you or the hold you have on his young liege lord" the man's smile began to falter. "In fact, I believe he said that it was a pity that you were not so keen on riding into battle with the rest of them....something about getting knocked off your horse and trampled to death?....but of course - he had been fairly deep into his cups by then, so we won't hold it against him....would we my Lord"?

The Lord's smile was gone as he eyed the distance to the door. Jon moved low like a predator to block the older man's escape.

"Sansa, I-" 

"Don't say her name" Jon commanded in a rumbling voice. "You don't get to say her name".

Sansa moved to be behind Jon once more. She smoothed one hand up his arm and onto his shoulder. She leant in to whisper behind his ear, making sure she was just loud enough for Baelish to hear her clearly. "Kill him" she bid "Kill him and then fuck me".

Jon nodded, keeping his eyes on the Lord and he unsheathed Longclaw and advanced.

  

 


End file.
